


Make Me Behave (Like An Animal)

by ti99ck4



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, M/M, Mentioned Boris Pavlikovsky, Mike Hanlon & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Organized Crime, Post-Pennywise (IT), Rich Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Stanley Uris is So Done, They killed him the first time, This Is STUPID, mentioned stanley barber, overused concepts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ti99ck4/pseuds/ti99ck4
Summary: “Bill, I swear to god if you’re here to ask for the calculus work I’m gonna kick yo-"Holy shit.There, in Eddie’s doorway was one Richie Tozier.“Well, hello to you too.”or Richie and Bev run away Post-2017 and return with secrets in towor i'm a sucker for crime aus and tattoos
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Goodbye, Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Bev deliver some news

“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to… We just wanted to let you guys know we were leaving.”

Bev, ever the first to get to the point when it came to serious topics. She was always the first to speak her mind and always the first to step up to a fight. She was aggressive, yeah, but she was smart. She knew when to pick her battles and knew when was the right time to spit out a little white lie. The traits were always things that Eddie had admired in Bev, and were reasons why at one point in his life he had thought he might’ve liked her. _Really_ liked her. Then he’d realized he hadn’t liked her and he was, in fact, just envious of her bravery and her booming personality.

And that was why it had shocked and, to be quite honest, _hurt_ Eddie to find out that now, in the Hanscom family living room, that Richie and Bev were running away (“high-tailing it the hell out of Dodge”, as Richie so gently put it).

As the Losers club sat in stunned silence Richie tossed an arm carelessly over Bev’s should and gave a small, kind smile, “We’ll miss you all, but I promise we’ll be back once-”

He shook his head and cleared his throat before continuing again, “Just- We’ll be back.”

With that, Stan had returned Richie’s smile, though much more grim, and glared at him sternly. Almost the way a parent warns a troublesome child before they head off someplace with a friend or the way a gentle owner would reprimand an excited dog, “You guys stay out of trouble or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself and kick your asses”

Richie grinned at that and lept up from his spot next to Bev and, using one of his newer Voices (one he called the Captain and was actually quite good), hopped into some down speech he had obviously prepared for this exact moment,

“Ay’ but of course”

Eddie frowned, he hated the way Richie said “course” in this Voice.

“Me fine lad! I do be thinkin’ I’ll be jus’ fine! In fact’ this lovely lass roight ‘ere will keep me well in check!”

Bev snickered, reaching up and pulling Richie back down to sit and letting the group fall into a much more comfortable silence.

“Where will you go?” Ben piped up with concern.

Richie shrugged, sharing a glance with Bev before turning back to answer Ben nonchalantly,

“A friend of mine in Vegas… real chill guy with a good taste in drinks.”

Bill smiled at Richie with huff, “Well, gee… I didn’t think you had any friends besides us, Rich. You ain’t exactly Mr. Popular.”

Richie laughed, running a hand through his hair, “Damn right I’m not! Yowza! Imagine that, would ya! Richie Tozier hangin’ with the jocks and cheerleaders.” 

Mike giggled before pointedly replying with a quick, “I don’t wanna imagine, thanks.”

Eddie smiled before nodding, “Yeah, that’d be a pain for everybody.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And it was that moment, just two months later, when a teary eyed Losers club wished Bev and Richie goodbye at the bus station out of Derry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ chosen jacobs fan club hello, cowards
> 
> Chapter title is from the song Goodbye, Stranger by Supertramp 
> 
> Work title is from the song Animal by Sir Chloe


	2. Something Doesn't Feel Right (I Need Closure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie reviews.

Eddie remembers every postcard he’d gotten from after that cold day in January when Beverly and Richie had skipped town. 

He also remembers when they stopped.

  
  
  


_ January 25th, 1990 _

_ Dearest Losers :) _

_ Hi everyone! We hope this postcard finds you all in good health.  _ **_Hope this postcard finds me in your mom._ ** _ Sorry, Richie snatched the pen (ew I know). Anyways, we made it to Vegas!! Mike you’d love it! The lights are absolutely gorgeous and everyone is polite enough not to ask questions. Eddie and Stan, you guys would probably find it gross, to be honest. I’m gonna finish this up but expect a lengthy letter from Richie and I soon! _

_ We love you all! _

_ Bevvy and Rich _

  
  
  
  


**_February 14th, 1990_ **

**_Losers and motherfuckers of the jury,_ **

**_Bevvy dearest said I could write the letter since she wrote (most of) the postcard. My friend, Boris, got us registered at school so fret not about our mental growth Stanny. He also offered to help us find jobs so I’m pretty grateful for that. We actually have been eating nutritious ( shocking, Eds, I know) meals using the money we saved and I even saw this guy on the street dressed in a giant Scooby Doo costume which is pretty wild if ya ask me. There was a sheep costume too and Bev hit me when I said it reminded me of something Mike should wear._ **

**_There was this awesome little bookshop I saw driving in and it reminded me of Bill and Ben. I’m gonna save up for a camera, I think. I’ll definitely send pictures if these jobs Boris is talking about are any good._ **

**_Happy Valentine's Day, by the way! I hope you guys are celebrating the Richie Way and stealing Candy from the shops downtown <3_ **

**_In all seriousness though, we really are doing good and I gotta good feeling about this whole thing, so don’t worry._ **

**_Send Ms. K my love for Valentines Day!!_ **

**_Xoxo Richie_ **

_ And Bev!! _

_ March 7th, 1990  _

_ Losers <3, _

_ I apologize in advance for any possible spelling mistakes in this letter (that’s Richie’s strongsuit, not mine) and I’m writing this in the dark so I’m having a little bit of trouble. _

_ I’m a bit worried. _

_ Those jobs that Richie’s friend offered us aren’t really safe? _

_ I don’t know how to explain it. I really don’t want to get in trouble writing this or anythin g so I suppose that I’ll keep this postcard short. _

_ Stay safe and much love, _

_ Beverley _

  
  


**_April 17th, 1990_ **

**_Howdy, Losers!_ **

**_Sorry this letter is so late in comparison to Bevvy’s last postcard (which I didn’t even get to read because she sent off so quick, ugh) but I digress._ **

**_We took those jobs that Boris offers, even though Bev was hesitant at first and whoohoo!_ **

**_I’m getting PAID gents!_ **

_**I bought a real cheap camera so I’ve included some pictures of the city. I have a feeling Ben will appreciate these the most so I’ve included a couple souvenirs for you guys to distribute amongst yourselves as well (keychains, pens, stickers, etc.)** _

**_I really miss you guys, but I still feel great about being here. Could you guys send me something to hang up on my wall? Just so its a little less lonely haha. Maybe just some pictures or drawings or something, if you have the chance <3_ **

**_Luv ya lots kiddies_ **

**_Richee_ **

_ July 1st 1990 _

_ Losers, _

_ I know it's been awhile since our last letter, but before you read the contents of the postcard please know I tried really hard to make sure he didn’t get caught. I really did. _

_ Richie got arrested yesterday.  _

_ They carted him off in a cop car and are gonna charge him as an adult, I think. I find that stupid since he’s only 15 but he really mouthed off to that cop. He’s lucky his head is still on his shoulders. _

_ His whole fucking nose was bloody and he was grinning like an idiot when they put the cuffs on him. He even laughed a little, I think. _

_ He’ll be fine, though. I’ve made sure of it. _

_ I’m sorry it has to be like this, but please don’t expect any more letters for awhile. _

_ Love (Forever and Always), _

_ Bev _

  
  
  


That was the last postcard they’d gotten.

That was two years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh here we go
> 
> Chapter Title from Closure by Pup


	3. Caught Up In A Rush, It's Killing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Bev take a trip.

“Up and at ‘em, Trashmouth.”

Richie groaned, running a hand through his hair. As they’d gotten older he’d stopped cutting it as often, letting it reach almost down to his shoulders. Bev, on the other hand, had started keeping her hair far shorter and never let it reach below her chin. Her flashy, solid gold earrings, on the other hand, went slightly farther than her hair and matched her necklaces and single gold band. She dressed far more simply than Richie and designed her own clothing. She’d grown to love more muted colors over the years. Richie was entirely the opposite, however. He had simple silver and diamond studs in each ear (ones that Bev often had to replace for him after he’d misplaced them) and different rings of varying shapes and sizes on his hands. His style was absolutely awful if you asked Bev her opinion on it. His outrageous shirts had begun to be more solid colored and with far less flashy designs and he somehow found a way to make them look decent. He’d swapped out graphic-tees underneath them for either tank tops or just the button ups buttoned 3/4ths of the way up. His favorite shirt, which he had worn for this  _ very _ special occasion, was a dark teal button up with much more muted birds of paradise flowers on it. He called it his “Lucky Shirt”, though it was really just something he wore if he was in an extra good mood that day.

“Beverly Marsh, you make it very hard to love you.”

Bev turned slightly, grinning at Richie (who huffed and sat up in his seat) before speaking again, “Watch your mouth, dumbass, I’m the one driving your car.”

Richie loved his car and took an unreasonable amount of pride in it. It- or rather she- was a hot red 1991 Pontiac Firebird, which he had paid for in cash and driven around like a maniac as soon as he got. He ended up with three speeding tickets in his first six months of owning it and got a helluva scolding from Bev each time which he had dismissed, paid for his tickets, and gone to traffic school like the wonderful,  _ law-abiding _ (law-abiding! What a riot!) citizen he was. He washed it every other day and had it regularly detailed because, as Bev so gently put it, he was a fucking  _ slob _ . He absolutely hated bringing his car through valet and almost threw a temper tantrum the time he had forgotten and driven it to the restaurant he was at for a meeting. He was absolutely obsessed with his car and had gone so far as to get “TRSHMTH” as his license plate.

“You leave my Beverly  _ alone _ , you cruel beast.”

He also happened to name it after Bev.

“Yeah, yeah… anyways.” she said as she pulled her eyes back to the road, “I had a feeling you’d want to see the ‘Welcome to Derry’ sign.”

He clapped his hands together dramatically, batting his eyelashes at Beverly and sighed, “Gee, Bevvy… what would I do without ya, doll?”

She laughed, reaching over and smacking him (to which he dramatically let out a shriek), “You’d crash and burn, babe.”

“Damn right, I would. How much longer till we get to Hell?” he asked, reaching towards the glove box and grabbing them each a cigarette.

Bev held up a hand as he passed her one and shook her head with a slight frown, “You know I hate Winstons, Rich. They taste like shit. I’ll wait til we get there.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, placing it back in the glovebox and slamming it shut.

“To answer your question, though, It should only be another twenty tops.”

He sighed, rolling down his window and pulling out his lighter, “Boooooorrrriiiinnnnngggg.” 

Twenty minutes to get to, arguably, the most boring place on Earth. Not that Richie wouldn’t end up making it interesting and stir up a little trouble, of course. It would just be more difficult. Bev hummed, nodding in agreement as they passed the “Welcome to Derry” sign. Richie smiled to himself as he stared at it, taking in every scratch and tag possible as they drove right passed it.

Yeah, Derry was a shitty place, but it had a lot of good memories to combat the bad. It held distant memories of ice cream on hot summer days, trekking through tall grass and playing stupid games and…

“You think they’ll wanna see us?” Richie asked, turning towards Bev and flicking his cigarette out the window.

She smiled, not a smile making fun of him but soft and reassuring, “Of course they will. They knew we’d come back eventually.”

He glanced at her and nodded, before turning back and glancing out the window.

She exhaled before slowly starting off a sentence, “I know you probably won’t want to tell them-”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Rich-”

“I said no, Beverly.”

With that Bev nodded and turned, letting the silence fill the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been updating!! I have an AP test tomorrow and I'm a bit nervous :) I'll try to update more regularly and you can expect an update on He's Not Him soon too <3 lmk what you think!!
> 
> Chapter title is from The Other Side of Paradise by Glass Animals


	4. Is This What You Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets a visitor.

Eddie sighed, throwing himself backwards onto his bed.

It was exhausting, getting older. When he was younger the only thing he’d wanted was to grow up and experience the real world on his own. Explore, travel. He had, at one point, ambitious dreams to travel the world and move to New York or California with the Losers at his side. He imagined himself sitting on a beach or around a campfire with his friends, not giving a single care about anything or anyone. He imagined sightseeing and long airplane rides that had incredible views of exotic places and trying new (safe) foods. If only young him could see him now, laying on his bed worrying about whether or not he was up to getting a summer job and whether his mom would actually let him get one or not. 

As he’d gotten older Eddie had stopped taking his  gazebo placebo pills and had even mustered up the courage to have a civil conversation with his mom (not that any conversation with Sonia Kaspbrak was ever civil or simple) and had demanded that she loosen her ever-tight grip on him and his life. It had taken more than a little arguing, and she had put up a fight at first, but ultimately agreed and had taken a much needed step back and let Eddie become his own person. After freshman year, Eddie had taken up running and had ended up on varsity track during his sophomore year. He’d run every morning at sunrise and be back in time to eat a (nutritious) breakfast and get ready for school. He’d worked his ass off in track and had gained a bit of popularity at school among the athletic kids and even went to a couple parties. Not that he’d ever liked parties, he just went because Bill, Ben and Mike were going and if they were going Stan was going. Besides, one party never hurt him and it always made him look cooler than he was. He was a good runner, though, and he was certainly thankful for that. He wasn’t as tall as Mike or Ben and he was only a tad bit smaller than Stan (Bill was the shortest of them, not that he’d ever admit it out loud). After the absolute shitshow that was Henry Bowers and the summer of 1989, The Losers had all gained a certain amount of respect around school. He’d never mentioned it, but he was almost sure that it was because the other kids had thought highly of them for putting up with “psyco killer” Henry Bowers for years without getting killed like his supposed victims.

_ Knock. _

He froze, sitting up slightly.

Mike wasn’t supposed to come over until tomorrow to hang out and his mom wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half. Stan, Bill, and Ben should still be at the library working on their history project.

So who the fuck was knocking?

_ Just your imagination,  _ he told himself as he slowly laid back down with a huff. He was stressed and his mind was probably just playing tricks on him. After It, the Losers had all suffered their fair share of paranoia and more often than not would find themselves jumping at a sudden noise or checking over their shoulder. Eddie himself would, at many times, reassure himself that he was okay and that there were no more monsters to hide around corners or in dark places.

_ Knock. _

Ok, what the fuck was going on?

He groaned and stood up, stomping angrily downstairs and straight to the door.

“Bill, I swear to  _ god _ if you’re here to ask for the calculus work I’m gonna kick yo-”

_ Holy shit. _

There, in Eddie’s doorway was one Richie Tozier.

“Well, hello to you too.”

He was taller than Eddie had imagined him as and was certainly  _ not  _ how Eddie had remembered him. His face was thinner, older. His coke bottle glasses had been swapped out for thin, wire frames and thinner glass that kept his eyes from looking like a bug. He looked different, to say the least. Seven year old Richie made mud pies out in the Barrens and then threw them into the water just to see what happened. Twelve year old Richie was hyper and loud and wearing hot pink just to get a rise out of the people in town. Fifteen year old Richie had a messy backpack and never turned in his work but somehow got all A’s and a bunch of detentions. All of those Richies were a mess, yeah, but they were familiar, someone he’d grown up with. This Richie was new.  _ Strange _ . His hair was long and dark, coming down in coils just above the shoulders. This Richie’s outfit was semi-color coordinated and had mute tones compared to the bright colors that the Richie Eddie knew wore. This Richie was wearing a shiny collection of silver jewelry with diamonds and intricate details. This Richie had a black and gray snake winding down his right arm and- 

“Are those tattoos?” Eddie squeaked out.

Richie’s eyes widened dramatically and then he doubled over, laughing loudly.

Eddie just stared.

Richie coughed, standing up and looking past Eddie before sending a crooked smile at him, “So, I’m assuming your mom isn’t home? You’d think she’d be here for our big reunion. ‘S a real shame.”

Well, some things never change, he guessed.

“No, she shouldn’t be home for about an hour. Also, ew.” he replied, moving aside to let Richie inside. 

Richie nodded, humming in agreement as he studied the inside of the Kaspbrak house before grinning, “ Ya know ‘s nice to see nothin’s changed here.”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied with a frown, “You still can’t dress after all these years.”

Richie gasped, throwing a hand across his chest dramatically and wiping an imaginary tear from his eye and pointing an indignant finger and the stifled teal and orange button up he was wearing, “How dare you! This is my lucky shirt, I’ll have you know.”

“Not lucky for my eyes.”

“Please, you  _ wish _ you had a shirt this cool.”

Eddie grimaced, looking up and down Richie’s shirt before moving towards the kitchen, “Absolutely not. You want something to drink?”

“Nah… but I’m guessing you want to sit down and talk, huh?” he replied, shoving his hands carelessly into his pockets. 

Well, duh. You leave a person for over two and a half years and think they don’t want an explanation? The last they’d heard from Bev, Richie had gotten arrested for who knows what and Bev had told them they wouldn’t be writing anymore. They hadn’t gotten a single word about either of their friends after that. They didn’t even know if they were alive. Eddie had honestly given up on ever seeing either of them again. How could he  _ not _ want an explanation?

“Something like that, yeah.” Eddie answered hesitantly as he poured himself a glass of water and sneaked a look in Richie’s direction.

Richie nodded, “Yeah… course you do. How ‘bout tomorrow? I’d do it now but I’ve got a business thing and-”

“Business?”

What the hell kind of business did Richie Tozier of all people have? How the hell could Richie even hold a job? He could barely hold his tongue! Maybe he’d ditched his job to get to Derry and his manager was on his ass about it, or maybe he was able to work from home or the road or something. Richie wasn’t lazy or anything, but he liked to procrastinate and put things off before giving things his oh-so-precious time.

“Yeah, it's not a big deal or whatever. Just have to make a couple calls and send a few letters. You know how it is. Tomorrow at the diner? Noon? You can bring the Losers, if you want.”

“Yeah… Yeah, noon. They’ll be excited to see you, Rich”

_ Beep Beep! _

Richie grinned, his head shooting up, “My ride appears to have arrived, Spaghetti. Be a doll and walk me out?”

Eddie groaned, standing up and walking towards the door as Richie followed suit, “Not my name, but sure.”

Opening the door and stepping onto the porch, Eddie glanced out into the road.

“What the fu-”

_ There’s no way Richie got here in THAT. _ That car looked expensive and well cared for, hardly something a senior in high school and a newly eighteen year old would be able to afford. 

Richie dashed out, waving his arms like a maniac and stomping his foot (that boy really had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he?), “Beverley Marsh, if you scratched my car I’m gonna kick your ass!”

With that, Richie hopped right into the passenger side and rolled down the window before the car sped off, “Ta-ta Eddie, My love! See you tomorrow!”

Eddie had so many fucking questions right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Song - Is This What You Wanted by Grandson
> 
> I am SO sorry for not writing in the past couple of months, I've been super busy with my summer school, piano, taekwondo, helping my parents with home improvement projects... ugh. To make it up I'm going to post all of my chapters for this story right now, He's Not Him tomorrow, and my new stories (supernatural, not It sorry haha) the day after!! I haven't been able to post on my instagram au bc I got in trouble, but if you know me from there hi!!! Hope you all are doing well and as always, don't forget to tell me what you think! Every chapter I've written in the past two months has been between 1.5k and 2k words so I really hope its quality writing and you all enjoy it :) <3


	5. Middle of Adventure, Such A Perfect Place To Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie makes a call and Mike makes a visit.

“Mike? You there?”

Mike groaned on the other end of the line before answering, “Eddie, you better have a real good reason for calling past eight.”

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes before answering quietly and tightening his grip on the aging brown phone of the Kaspbrak household, “I can’t tell you over the phone, okay? My mom’s gonna be coming down stairs any minute now and this is really important.”

“...Alright. I’ll sneak in through your window in twenty, ok?”

“Great. Thanks, Mikey.”

“No problem.”

As promised, twenty minutes later a small pebble hit Eddie’s window, startling him out of a daze and sending him jumping up to unlock his window as Mike scaled the tree opposite and slowly dropped onto the tattered roof of the Kaspbrak home. Mike wobbled slightly, throwing out his arms to hold himself up before throwing a sheepish grin at Eddie. As they’d gotten older Mike had gotten tall. Too tall, if you asked Eddie (who was stuck somewhere between 5’10 and 5’11). His work at the farm had bestowed sizeable muscle mass and an awfully large amount of strength to him, and Eddie often suspected that if Mike had gone to school like the rest of the Losers -omitting RIchie and Bev, who’s schooling habits he hadn’t the slightest idea of- he would’ve made a wonderful and willing member of the Derry High football team.

Mike sighed with relief as he carefully lowered himself through Eddie’s too-small window and onto the floor, then turning around to silently lock the window behind him and back again to smile, “So… what was so important that it had to wait until almost nine at night?”

Eddie’s eyes widened, remembering very suddenly why he had called Mike here and deflating, “Right.”

He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes and dragging himself backwards before flinging himself on his bed and opening his eyes again.

“Do you think about Bev and Richie a lot?” he asked, sitting up and pulling his legs under him.

Mike shrugged, grabbing Eddie’s chair from his desk and facing it away from his friend and sitting backwards with his arms folded neatly on the chair’s top with his chin sitting comfortably on top.

The way he sat was familiar, Eddie thought. Reminiscent of chilly winter days spent in a warm living room, seven people huddled around a fire or those same seven people in a crowded hole in the ground, reading and keeping to themselves.

“Yeah, I suppose I do. I hope they’re doing well but I try not to dwell too often. It just leaves me with more questions than answers.”

Eddie nodded, drawing in a breath, 

“RichieshowedupatmydoortodayandBevwasthereand-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Eddie, slow down and take a breath.”

“Right, sorry.” He grimaced before taking a deep breath and starting off slower, 

“Richie showed up at my door today.”

Mike’s jaw slackened in a stupor before he reached a hand up and ran it down his face, “It was him? You’re sure it was him? You’re positive?”

Eddie nodded slowly, his hands gripping tightly at his blankets and glanced out the window before turning back to Mike, who flashed a wide smile and began to ask questions.

“How is he? Was Bev with him? Is he doing alright? Are they still in town? Whe-”

Eddie raised a hand, slapping it over Mike’s mouth with a glare before glancing timidly towards his bedroom door. If his mother knew that he’d snuck a friend in she’d have an absolute fit. Many times, in middle school and the very beginning of highschool, Richie would clamor in through the window and Eddie would have to shove him into his dark, crowded closet while he reassured his mother that he had not been speaking to anyone and was rather reading aloud, rehearsing a school speech, or saying a prayer before bed. After which he would exasperatedly snag Richie from his closet and scold him accordingly. On one occasion, in fact, his mother had been taking an evening nap when Richie had snuck in, knocking over a book on Eddie’s desk as he did so and sending his mother worrying her head off as she awoke from her nap. Eddie then spent what felt like the next twenty minutes telling his mother that Richie was over for a school project and he hadn’t told her because he wanted to let her sleep. This lie was subsequently affirmed by Richie’s quick mouth, going into detail about their “project” and Eddie had worried later, after Richie left, about how this lie would’ve held had Richie not brought his backpack with him. Granted, his backpack was filled with comic books and sugary snacks that would’ve sent Sonia Kaspbrak into a frenzy, but it simply being there was enough to ease her anxious mind.

“Quiet, man. Now who’s the one that needs to calm down?” 

Mike pushed his hand away, still smiling, “Right, my bad. Keep talking.”

Eddie frowned slightly, “He was so.… different. He was tall, almost as tall as you and his hair’s way longer, almost to his shoulders.”

“Doesn’t sound too different to me.” he responded, “What else?”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms, “He had  _ tattoos _ , Mikey. Real ones and they were, like,  _ insane _ . He looked like some kind of delinquent.”

Mike scowled, “Tattoos? I didn’t think Richie Tozier was decisive enough to get tattoos.”

“Exactly!” Eddie exclaimed, tossing his hands above his head, “They were on his arms, maybe his chest too but I couldn’t see. There was a snake on his right arm, I think. It was huge! His left arm had a bunch of real sloppy ones and something on the back of his hand. The ace of spades, maybe? I don’t know. It was hard to tell and I didn’t want to stare. I think his nails were painted too, who knows.”

“Anyways..” he continued, shaking his head and laughing, “He also had the  _ ugliest  _ shirt on.”

Miked grinned, “So nothing too different then, I guess.”

Eddie smiled, looking down at his hands, “Bev was in the car- Richie’s car, I think- so I didn’t get a good look at her, but…”

Mike smiled softly, waiting for Eddie to continue but when met with silence, frowning, “But what?”

“I dunno. It’s kind of dumb, but I think they’re doing really well- without us, I mean.”

His eyes widened, looking back up at Mike, “A-and I don’t want them to feel  _ bad _ , I’m really happy that they’re doing so great! They deserve to be happy, but... it just kind of hurts to know they don’t need us, you know what I mean? They have their own lives and are doing their own things and it really seems like they’re doing fine, real fine.”

Mike stood, walking over and sitting next to Eddie and placing a strong, gentle hand on his shoulder, “Eddie… Richie came and visited you, right? He missed you, had to, or he wouldn’t have come all this way, ok? Richie and Bev are… complex people to say the least- you know that as well as I do- but they both love their friends with everything they’ve got.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. Okay. You’re right, Mikey. Thanks.” He said, nodding hesitantly and taking a shaky breath before shifting where he sat, “He said he wanted to meet at the diner at noon tomorrow, and to bring you, Ben, Stan, and Bill if I wanted too.”

“ _ Do  _ you want us to?” Mike asked, an eyebrow raised in slight confusion.

Eddie nodded, smiling again, “Yeah, I think I do.”

Mike gave a short nod in agreement before standing and walking to the window on quiet feet and silently unlocking it, “I’ll call them and let them know first thing in the morning.”

Eddie grinned, watching Mike lower himself cautiously out the window, “Goodnight, Mikey.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title - 505 by Arctic Monkeys
> 
> As promised, all chapters I have done posted tonight <3


	6. You'll Forgive Me If I Promise But Do Nothing But The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan makes a threat and Beverly asks for assistance.

Eddie smiled, steering his bike to a sliding halt on the chipped and pothole-filled asphalt outside the Hanlon farm.

In the last two and a half years the farm had most certainly felt the wrath of nature, especially the heavy storms that Derry had experienced a little over a year ago. When Mike’s grandfather had offered them the opportunity to work at the farm and help with repairs for a few bucks all of them had jumped at the chance. Repairing the fences, repainting and patching the barn and caring for livestock had made up most of their junior year spring break, but left them with a combined total of forty dollars- ten each, excluding Mike (who was most certainly not getting paid).

The five of them had pooled any money they had, saving it for what Bill called his “Big Summer Road Trip”, which was a trip down to Florida over the summer as a great big final huzzah before college. Nearly every afternoon and weekend was spent planning and discussing plans and how they would pile into Mike’s truck and spend time at the beach together. Stan, of course, had planned most of the trip meticulously and took it upon himself to create multiple group and individual budgets and schedules, slowly but surely picking through each one until finding one that met everyone’s own ability to collect money and schedule post-graduation. For once, things were most definitely looking up, and the merry-band was on track to meeting their goal.

Until Big Bill stumbled down the stairs at twilight and broke his leg and their summer fund went towards that instead (because Bill’s parents had paid for only half his medical bills to teach him “valuable life skills”).

So now they were broke again, standing here in the shadow of the barn they had repaired without any of their winnings.

Bill, Mike, and Stan all stood perched against the sun-bleached, wooden fence as Eddie approached. Bill stood with his arms crossed, leaning on one leg with the other tucked politely behind him. Even when he stood relaxed Bill looked he had something on his mind, which (to be fair) he probably did. Ever the thinker, it was without question that Eddie assumed he was thinking about Richie and Beverly. Stan stood next to him, leaning on the fence and reading what Eddie could only assume was about birds. Because, honestly, what else did Stan ever read about? His weekends almost always consisted of bird watching, and the others often took turns going with him because, to be fair, they all enjoyed the silence, peace, and thoughtful breezes that came with sitting in the Barrens with Stan as he pointed out birds and listed facts they were sure to forget. Finally, Mike stood on Stan’s other side, trying in an unsuccessful attempt to wrestle back a length of rope from Mr. Chips Junior. Noticing Eddie approaching, he gave one more sharp tug of the rope, freeing it from Mr. Chips’ grasp and sent it flying over the fence, where the overactive dog was sure to follow. He raised an arm high in a friendly wave, which Eddie returned as he got closer. 

“So… I’m assuming Ben is on his way?”

Mike grinned, “He said he’d be just a few minutes behind because he had to help his mom sweep the house.”

Eddie nodded, “Alright. Bill, Stan? Mike told you where we were going?”

Bill’s eyes widened as he motioned a hand past his neck in a sharp motion and moved his other hand to his mouth and mouth a quick, “ _ Cut it out. _ ”

Eddie scowled in confusion, “Wh-”

_ Bang! _

Stan slammed his book closed in one swift motion and glaring at Eddie, “I’m gonna kill him.”

Eddie frowned, “What?”

Of course. Stan, prior to Richie and Bev’s departure from the Derry Bus Station that sat down the road from the post office, had been Richie’s Best friend and closest confidante. They’d been friends since kindergarten, and had been living in their own world prior to meeting Bill and Eddie and forming the “Original Losers Club”. Richie had been the one that went bird watching with Stan and the one that countered his bird facts and tidbits with facts about things that didn’t exist, like monsters and dragons and mind reading (although years later they would realize that monsters, in fact,  _ were _ real and try not to dwell on the thought). Stan would drag Richie to his Boy Scout meetings and Richie would pretend to be interested and encourage Stan’s hobbies. Richie, in turn, would bounce his latest jokes off of Stan, who would give a dry, sarcastic response and then push Richie to continue with his long list of jokes so that Stan might help him sort through only the very best ones. 

“You heard me. I’m going to kick his ass into next week. He leaves for nearly three years with no letters or calls and then wants to get lunch? I’m angry, okay?”

Eddie nodded sheepishly. He supposed he understood well enough. He’d feel pretty upset if Bill or Mike had suddenly left him high and dry without a word, “Right… I get it. I just-”

“Guys!”

Eddie turned, cut off by Ben’s voice growing closer.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, I had to-”

“S-Sweep, we know. Don’t w-worry, let’s just get going.”

Ben nodded, turning around back towards the road as the other’s grabbed their bikes.

Over the years, Ben had put in a lot of work towards weight loss and was now on Derry’s football team, growing to a pretty steady amount of popularity alongside Bill. His invitations to parties and bonfires out in the woods had grown more present in the last year or so, though he almost always declined in favor of spending his time with the Losers. He’d grown nearly as tall as Mike and even almost as buff. Bill had joked once that Richie’s old nickname, Haystack, hardly worked for him anymore, thus sending the group into a bout of unpleasant silence. Having outgrown several bikes, he’d gotten his most recent from what was left of the pooled vacation fund post-“Bill’s stupid accident”, as everyone else had taken to calling it. 

Stan sighed, gently tossing his book into his bike basket and climbing on as the others followed suit, “Let’s get this over with then.”

As they rode down the street Eddie smiled to himself, feeling nostalgic. It had been just the five of them for so long, and although they had adapted and accepted and tried their best to move on, there’d always been a gaping hole where Richie and Beverly had been. Whether it be the empty beat after the perfect opportunity for a joke or the accidental hesitation that came before jumping into the quarry, there was always  _ something  _ missing.

But now that’d be fixed... Rich and Bev were back and everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be as it was.

Or at least that’s what Eddie told himself.

Pulling up to the diner, the boys parked their bikes on the side of the building. In true Losers Club fashion, everyone simply leaned their bikes against the others’, omitting Stan, who carefully put down his kickstand and positioned his bike in just the right spot to stay out of the sun. Stan hesitantly reached towards his book before pulling his hands back to his sides and shaking his head and going back to donning his signature, icy stare.

Bill smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder as they walked around and inside.

The Derry Diner, like many places in Derry, was a simple place. The washed-out pink and white of the seats and the small black and white tiles that decorated the floors held a sense of solitude in them. Many times, when Eddie would sneak out and come to the diner for a late-nate chocolate milkshake, he felt as if he was living in a simple, never aging world. And that, he supposed, was the perfect way to describe the Derry Diner: in it’s own bubble. The gentle 50’s songs that escaped from the jukebox in the corner and the yellowing lights that sat above the booths truly made time in the diner slow. If Eddie wasn’t such a busy person, he thought discreetly, he was sure he could spend hours inside without saying a single word to anyone, just gazing patiently out the window and into the scarcely traveled street (as all streets in Derry were).

At the ding of the bell that was tied tightly to the door handle, a woman stood up quickly to face them.

Eddie’s face fell before he broke into a smile, “Bev?”

She snickered slightly, taking a quick step forward and engulfing him in a hug, “Hi, Eddie.”

His shoulders dropped in relief, hugging her tightly before she took a step back to hug the others. 

He glanced up and down, studying her carefully. Her hair was still a bright, fiery red and her face was still covered in soft, pale freckles. Her eyes, which were still a familiar shade of olive green, held some sort of hidden worry. She stood tall, and Eddie guessed that without the heels she currently had on she was only a few inches shorter than Bill. Her outfit was well coordinated, with a pair of blue jeans and a belt that wrapped snugly around her hips and a tight fitting white top. She wore a jean jacket over the top that was slightly lighter than her jeans, and heeled black boots that completed her look. Adding onto her attire was flashy gold jewelry, from long, flowing earrings to a simple gold ban on her right ring finger.

Eddie stalled, looking around and past his friend, “Hey, Bev, where’s Richie?”

She sighed, bringing a hand to her face to pinch between her brows, “About that… He’s kind of having a mini-meltdown and, well-”

She inhaled, straightening her posture and recomposing herself, “I know I haven’t seen you all in what feels like  _ forever _ , but could you help me just calm him down? We’ll come straight back after, I promise. Normally, I’d leave him alone and let him work it out, but I really don’t want him to wreck the hotel room.”

Ben tilted his head slightly, “What exactly do you mean by ‘mini-meltdown’?”

Bev walked past him, opening the diner door with a knowing smile, “Just come with me and I’ll show you, okay?”

Eddie glanced at Bill, who nodded and started after her. Ben and Mike followed and Stan brought up the rear and whispered angrily as they walked, “Seriously? Guys?”

“Down at the Townhouse, got it? I took Rich’s car so I’ll drive ahead and meet you in the lobby.” Bev instructed, taking a peak at their bikes sitting on the side of the building before reaching into her pocket to fish out a set of silver keys.

“Got it, we’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” Bill said with a soft smile.

_ Oh great, back to pining central _ , Eddie thought with a silent groan. Back to the old, familiar, longing stares that rotated between Bill, Ben and Bev and everyone else getting caught in the disgustingly lovesick crossfire.

Whatever, at least  _ he  _ wasn’t like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title - This is Love by Air Traffic Controller


	7. Tell Me One Damn Thing I Ain't Already Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie takes a call.

Walking into the Derry Townhouse, Eddie looked around, studying the way it hadn’t changed in, well,  _ ever _ .

The only times (which had been very few) that Eddie had gone into the Townhouse had been to dodge Henry Bowers and his gang of asshole friends and to use that bathroom that sat in the far left corner of the lobby. Even then it looked exactly as it did now. The too-dim lights coated the room in a warm, eerie glow. The dust that settled on the wood fixtures and aging furniture made the place look ancient and, in a way, he supposed it was. Had the sun been down and the streets of Derry filled with the overwhelming silence that came with nightfall, Eddie would have assumed he was in some far-off studio in Hollywood, an actor for some sinister and frightening horror flick that would break the box office. Sitting ahead, in that otherworldly and cold lobby, was Bev. Bev, who was positioned on the edge of a pale, brown couch, her posture strong and her eyes darting to a clock that sat cold and curious on the wall.

Beside him, Ben ever-so-slightly raised a steady hand in greeting as Bev stood.

She took an apprehensive glimpse towards the monstrous, aging stairs before beckoning them closer and talking in a slightly hushed voice, one that was almost reminiscent of the kind used in classrooms by students talking just out of their teacher’s earshot. One that held secrets and drama in it’s very tone, “Just follow me, ok? We’re in the penthouse, top floor and he’s on the phone talking to an... employee. Whatever you do, DON’T say anything that might make him mad, alright? If I have to deal with another one of his bitchy, angry outbursts I think I’ll go loony.”

Eddie nodded, glancing at Stan, who huffed, dragging his hands down his face and stared daggers at the staircase before taking a deep breath. This, Eddie thought with a silent laugh, was certainly a nod to the fact that Richie and Stan really weren’t that different. He could act serious and adult as much as he pleased, but at the end of the day, he and Richie were both spectacularly dramatic. This, he reminisced, was assuredly the reason they could butt heads and still be the best of friends. 

“Alright. You first, I assume?”

Bev laughed, strolling towards the staircase, “Good to see you’re still smart, Stan.”

He smiled politely, following her up with Mike, Eddie, Ben, and finally Bill tailing.

Making their way up the stairs with soft steps, Eddie froze.

Somebody was yelling.  _ Loudly _ .

Eyebrows raised, he glanced at Bev, who rolled her eyes and gave a stiff nod of affirmation.

“What the hell.” he mumbled under his breath.

Coming to the end of the third floor hallway (which was just as muted as the lobby), Bev paused. 

Standing in front of the worn, wooden doors she turned to them, “Let me tell him you’re here first, ok? And don’t forget what I told you. He’s on a phone call, so he shouldn’t care much about whether or not you come in as long as you’re quiet.”

Spinning around quickly, she inserted and turned the key. Mike and Eddie glanced at each other, each giving the other a nervous smile. Obviously whatever was wrong had Richie seriously worked up, at least enough to be yelling his throat hoarse in an aging hotel room.

Opening the door, Bev cautiously leaned in before speaking, “Rich? The Losers are here… Can we come in?”

“Whatever, Red! Just don’t go yelling, capiche?” a muffled voice spat back.

Stan rolled his eyes, whispering, “The only one yelling here is him.”

Bill snickered, elbowing him in the side before shushing him and facing Bev once more.

Bev sighed, giving them an abashed smile before slowly opening the door and letting the rest of the Losers Club inside the room. It was wide and fairly open, with two closed doors at the side opposite of them, and an open door that led into a room that Eddie assumed was Bev’s on the right. On the left was a king sized bed, blankets and pillows thrown astray in a way that only led to the assumption that it was Richie’s. The lights were all on and yet still seemed drab, outshined by the large, open window that sat behind the bed’s headboard. On the opposite wall sat a small decorative table, with a cheap, dusty vase decorating it and wilted, pink flowers inside.

Of course, now that the door was open, the yelling was much more distinct, and Eddie winced as he positioned himself on the bench that sat just at the foot of the bed.

Richie marched around the room, phone in hand as the cord stretched and turned with every swift turn he made. His hair was a wreck, sticking out in every direction and Eddie almost smiled to himself, drawing comparison to the state of Richie’s hair and Richie himself as he paced back and forth around the room. Taking a moment to study him, Eddie noticed now that rather than a large tattoo on his left hand, Richie had a smaller collection of messy, lighter tattoos and a word that Eddie couldn’t quite make out with Richie’s flailing arms. He donned a sun-beaten black tanktop and black sweats, certainly not having a chance to get ready for the day after he woke up. His socks were well worn, small holes starting to make themselves known in the soles and Eddie could only assume that these holes were the results of many strides back and forth across hotel carpets in angry phone calls. 

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” he yowled into the phone, making heads turn and sending Eddie jumping.

“What do you mean ‘why not’, you dunce? Because  _ you _ lost  _ my _ money, that’s why!”

Bev groaned, throwing herself calmly onto the bed and sticking her tongue out before whispering quietly to the losers, “Richie gave him a loan or whatever, right? And he lost it all in a week.”

Eddie nodded, turning back to watch Richie who snapped angrily to whoever it was on the phone, “And frankly you’re in no place to question me, you airhead. You work for me not the other way around.”

Holy crap. People _ worked  _ for Richie Tozier? Besides the Losers Club, Richie was hardly a team player. Much less someone people took orders from. In class he would crack jokes and procrastinate before finally doing his part of any kind of group work. Not that his work turned out bad, he was incredibly smart, he just waited until the last minute to do his part.

_ I must be losing it or something _ , Eddie thought,  _ maybe I’m- _

“ _ Because I SAID SO.” _ , Richie yelled, sending the hideous vase flying and crashing right to the floor with a sharp smack.

Eddie turned towards Bev (as everyone else seemed to do as well) and she replied with a shrug, “So far so good.”

“‘So far so good’? What the hell-” Eddie hissed, throwing his hands above his head.

Bev shrugged again (Seriously were her shoulders broken or something?) before whispering a response, “Last time he freaked he trashed his room and I had to pay someone to repair the walls.”

Before he could even begin to reply, Richie started talking again, 

“Get it back or you’re  _ done _ . I mean it.” 

Slamming the phone back on the receiver Richie kicked at the end table.

Bev shot up, walking towards him, “So….?”

Exhaling sharply, Richie ran his hands through his hair and gave a sharp tug, “SO, I just lost three thousand dollars because Captain Dipshit can’t handle an assignment in Vegas without gambling away MY money!”

Bev’s gaze darkened, whispering something out of earshot.

Richie kicked the table again before spinning around and snapping at her, “No. Leave it alone.”

“T-Three thousand dollars?” Bill asked, dazed.

Ben, who looked quite pale, shot Richie a small sympathetic frown, “Geez, Rich… That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

Eddie sat silent, still processing the fact that Richie Tozier had enough money to loan someone  _ three thousand dollars _ .

Richie let out a dramatic sigh, crumpling down onto the bench next to Eddie, “Now I won’t be able to get Bevvy her birthday present.”

Ben frowned, turning towards Bev, “Wh-”

She raised a hand, glaring heatedly at Richie and leaning forward to flick him in the forehead, “Not me, his car.”

“She’s more of a lady than you’ll ever be, Miss Marsh.” he retorted, shoving her.

Bev surged forward to hit him before backing up and throwing her hands up in defeat, “I’m not fighting you while you’re angry. You fight dirty when you’re mad.”

Richie scowled, opening his mouth to disagree before scoffing and heaving upwards to stand, “I do believe I promised you all lunch. I’m starving.”

Of course, leave it to Richie Tozier to skip anything logical and jump straight to the thought of food.

Stan’s brows furrowed, “I thought this was about talking, not lunch.”

Richie shrugged again, throwing a hand out dramatically, “Lunch, talking. It’s all the same to me.”

Mike smiled, placing a hand on Stan’s back, “Besides, we haven’t eaten yet, right? No harm in it.”

Stan, still glowering, sighed in surrender and gave a small nod. Richie grinned, doing a theatrical spin and clapping his hands together, “Perfect! I knew you’d come through, Standrew.”

Stan, in return, gave Richie a dry stare before standing and walking out the door, “You better hurry up, then.”

Richie frowned, turning to Eddie, “Did I do something wrong?”

Eddie gaped, “Did you- Are you dumb?”

Bill, on the other hand, promptly smacked himself in the forehead before speaking to Richie, “R-Rich, buddy, you didn’t reach out to him in the n-nearly three years y-you were g-g-gone.”

Richie’s jaw dropped, “I was locked away, what did he expect!”

“For almost three years?”

“Well, uh.” he fidgeted slightly before blinking and waving the question away with one hand, “Whatever, I’ll explain when we get there. Shall we?”

And with that, Richie spun on his heels and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title - Kiss Bang by Grandson


	8. I Still Wanna Be Your Favorite Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie tells a story and Stan accepts an apology.
> 
> TW for:
> 
> \- Drugs and inaccurate descriptions of side effects  
> \- Discussion of drug dealing  
> \- Mild description of drug induced suicide  
> \- Inaccurate descriptions of mental health institutes  
> \- Mentions of shock therapy/lobotomization

Entering the diner for a second time that day, Eddie smiled. All seven members of the Losers Club of 1989 under one roof and having fun like they used to was something he’d filed away under “hopeless dreams” years ago and yet now, here he was with that dream realized.

Stan glowered exasperatedly at Eddie.

Well, maybe the dream wasn’t completely realized yet but they were getting there. On the topic of explanations…

“S-so, Richie, Bev…” Bill trailed off as if on cue.

Richie's smile dropped ever so slightly before widening tightly , “Right! I suppose we owe you some sort of explanation, huh?”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Stan huffed under his breath and turned to stare out the window and into the street.

Richie winced as Bev tried her best at an apologetic smile, “Sorry… Should I start then?”

Richie hummed in agreement, leaning forward to take a sip out of his monstrosity of a milkshake. The “Frankenshake Float”, as Richie called it, was a custom order mix of cookie dough and mint chocolate chip ice cream with root beer and strawberry and chocolate milkshakes mixed together and decorated (though whether it was good decoration was arguable) with sickeningly bright rainbow sprinkles. Eddie had tried it once, in the sixth grade, and promptly gagged while Richie laughed so hard they were nearly kicked out.

Bev thought for a second before finally speaking, “So… When we got to Vegas, we stayed with Richie’s friend for a while and-”

“Boris! Man, that guy’s a real riot.” Richie interrupted with a laugh. Bev smacked his arm sharply and he rolled his eyes, muttering a small, “Sorry,  _ Mom _ .” as Bev continued on.

“So, Richie’s friend, Boris, offered us these jobs to run… contraband through our school.”

“Contraband?” Mike asked, genuine confusion crossing his face.

Bev nodded, “You know, like... cigarettes and energy drinks.”

“And weed.” Richie added in a hushed voice.

Eddie’s eyes widened to the point that it was nearly comical, “You guys were dealing drugs?”

Bev nodded, “Something like that, yeah.”

Richie, on the other hand, just scoffed and grinned, “Weed isn’t a drug, Eddie, my love. It’s a medicine.”

Eddie frowned, “No, it isn’t, Rich. It can make you go insane or whatever. Like-Like mushrooms and acid and LSD.”

That he knew for certain. His mother had said it, and although he didn't quite trust her word, he’d seen it at school as well. The people from the DARE program had come to give a presentation on drugs and had rounded up every student at Derry High and corralled them into the Gym to listen to the speaker talk about different drugs and what they could do to your body for an hour. It had been terrifying, listening to the presenter spout tales of drugs rotting people’s minds and bodies so badly that they were carted off to live the rest of their lives in a loony bins full of cruel nurses and doctors who lobotomized and electrocuted patients. He’d listened attentively as the students were told how just a drop of acid could completely destroy someone’s brain so badly they offed themselves right then and there.

Richie just sighed, “You have so much to learn, Spaghetti.”

“ _ Anyways _ .” Bev continued, “This kid, Oliver, his name was, kept telling Richie he’d buy from him and then putting off the deal. Well, one day-”

“One day I caught that little rat trying to take the goods out of my bag after school.”

Bev took a deep breath, “If you’re going to keep interrupting you may as well tell the story, Trashmouth.”

Richie smiled, “Of couwse, Miss Scawwet. Of couwse.” Clearing his throat to continue the story, Richie turned back to the Losers, “So I catch him trying to get into my bag, right? And I shove him because obviously I’m not gonna let him just take my stuff.”

Richie stopped, smiling up at the waitress- Chloe, her name tag read- as she set down their food in front of them. Richie took a large bite of his burger before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Richie, please finish chewing before you speak.” Mike chided, which sent the rest of the table into hushed giggles.

Richie frowned dramatically, “You mind yourself, Michael. I’m the one paying, I’ll eat how I like and you all will enjoy the view.”

Mike snorted, “Sure, Rich. Just finish your story.”

“Right! My story… Ah. So I shoved him and he freaked out and slapped me!” he was narrating the story with his hands now, hand waving wildly in a slapping motion, “But one little slap is nothing compared to that nutcase, Bowers or… ya know, so I just tackled him and we started fighting.”

Glancing up from his burger to make sure everyone was listening, “Bevvy heard the sirens while we were fighting, so she hid all the ‘illegal’ stuff in our bags in some bushes and waited for the cops to show up.”

Ben tilted his head, puzzled, “You didn’t try to stop them?”

Bev shrugged, studying one of the fries on her plate, “No way was I getting in the middle of  _ that _ .”

Richie nodded, “So, Bev waits and then when the cops show up and pull us apart, she starts fake crying.”

Bev broke out in a fit of giggles, “Maybe I should be an actress.”

Richie grinned, “Definitely, Red. Then she goes and tells the officer how sorry she is and spins this crazy story about how Oliver was insane and thought we were dealing drugs and had threatened her and I was her lovely boyfriend with anger issues defending her honor.” He carried on in Bev’s voice, “and she was all like, ‘We don’t have any-any drugs, mister! Promise! Check out backpacks!’”

“And it worked, too.” Bev piped up, “The cop who was questioning me while Richie was being tossed in the back of the cop car gave me a tissue and told me how he understood and how Richie would be out soon.”

Eddie gaped, “I can’t believe you guys lied to the  _ police _ .”

Richie sighed, taking a large bite out of his burger and actually swallowing before talking, “I know, right? So I ended up in a ‘juvenile detention center’ for three months and took anger management classes for six.”

Stan nodded, “And that's why you stopped writing?”

“Well, that and we didn’t want you guys to get mixed into all that crap. Thought it was for the best.” Richie responded carefully.

“S-So then w-what? H-How’d you end up with a-all this m-m-money?” Bill asked curiously.

Richie blinked, as if he hadn’t really been expecting anyone to ask, “Well, Billy… This really rich old guy that was a friend of Boris found me after my last anger management class and said he was impressed. Offered me a job as his ‘protege’ and taught me about running a lending business and how to negotiate and all that jazz and then, a year after that he gave it to me so he could go live in retirement in the Carribean.”

“So you inherited it?” Eddie quizzed, “Just like that?”

Richie beamed, giving Eddie a thumbs up, “Now yer gettin it, Spaghetti! I started fixin’ things up and expanding the business. They went… bankrupt in like, ‘86, see? So the business was almost completely under water. I’m trying to get it back on its feet.”

Bev cleared her throat, taking a long sip of her iced tea.

“Bevvy helps, of course.” he added sheepishly.

“And..?”

“Oh! Oh, Right!” Richie’s eyes lit up and he reached into his pocket and fished out a picture and passed it around the table. It was huge, with large windows that reached all the way up to the ceiling. The picture only showed the living room,but Eddie assumed the rest of it was just as big and just as lively. The floors were a taste full shade of brown, and as far as Eddie could tell were real wood. Tall, lush plants sat in the corners next to the windows and were placed neatly in ceramic pots. The couch was a warm, inviting shade of brown and sat facing a monster of a flatscreen tv (not that Eddie had ever seen one in real life, his mother still held on tight to the old tube tv that sat in their living room). On the couch sat an excited Bev and Richie, holding identical white coffee cups and leaning back on the black pillows that sat comfortably on the couch. “This is our apartment .My assistant, Patty, took this when we moved in. I was wondering- well,  _ we _ were wondering- if you’d consider coming with us back to New York…”

The table grew quiet, all of the Losers staring at Beverly and Richie.

Richie, who looked more than a little worried, started talking faster, “We-We’ll put you all through college and get you good jobs. You can live in our building, on the floor under us and-”

“Richie.” Bev addressed, cutting him off.

“Huh?”

“Babbling.”

“Sorry.”

Bev gave him a small nod, turning back to the others and smiling gently, “So, what do you say?”

Beverly and Richie had disappeared off the face of the Earth for nearly three years, leaving no clues to their whereabouts and now had returned wealthy and with crazy stories to tell and were inviting  _ them _ to come live with them. Eddie blinked silently, turning to look Bill in the eyes. Bill just shrugged, turning to address Bev and Richie,

“W-We all g-got accepted to NYU, except M-Mikey.” He stated, looked at him with a sympathetic smile.

Mike shook his head, “I didn’t apply. I don’t really think college would be right for me. I’ve been homeschooled all my life.. I’d love to go, though. I’ll consider it.”

Bill nodded, “A-and I can’t s-speak for the others… but I-I’ll think about i-i-it.”

Richie smiled excitedly, “Awesome. Thanks. It’d mean a lot to have you guys there.”

Ben frowned, “Has anyone got the time? I was gonna go help down at the library today, and I want to get there before two.”

“Fifteen till two.” Bill replied with a click glance at his watch.

Ben froze, “Shoot… I better go. Mike, did you wanna come?”

Mike nodded, standing and pushing his chair in before giving Richie and Beverly polite smiles, “Thanks for lunch guys, lets hang out again soon, okay?”

Richie laughed, shooting Mike finger guns, “Course, Mycicle. I’ll call ya.”

Eddie watched them leave and round the corner to retrieve their bikes and ride down the street before hearing a quiet murmur from Richie, “Stan, can I talk to you outside real quick?”

Stan, who looked rather shocked, nodded cautiously and stood before following Richie outside and disappearing behind the same side of the diner where the bikes were parked.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, Richie. I’m here. What do you-” Stan snapped, letting out a sharp  _ oomph _ as Richie pulled him into a crushing hug and stunned him slightly.

“I’ve missed you.” Richie mumbled into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too.” he replied quietly, bringing his hands down to hug Richie back.

It was true, he  _ had _ missed Richie. He’d missed him a lot, and rather than dealing with it like everybody else, he’d just gotten so _ angry _ . He had lashed out at his friends and lashed out at an absent Richie and Beverly rather than just admit that he was sad and hurt that Richie had left him alone. But he wasn’t alone, he thought with a grimace. If he’d just pulled his head out of his ass he would’ve realized a lot sooner that he still had the rest of the Losers.

Richie pulled back, fiddling with his glasses, “I’m really sorry, Stan. What I did wasn’t fair and-and I know you were probably worried and if I were you I-I probably would’ve reacted the exact same way and I know one apology doesn’t make up for three years of radio silence but-” he took a deep breath, “What I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry.”

Stan smiled softly, placing a timid hand on Richie’s shoulder, “I forgive you, Rich. I was mad, yeah, but… I know I don’t know the full story about everything you’ve been doing for the past three years, but I think I understand.”

Richie’s smile came back in full force, “Thanks, Stanley… Will you consider it? Coming to New York, I mean.”

Stan hummed, turning towards the front of the building where Bill, Eddie, and Bev were now waiting patiently, “Maybe… I think I’d like New York. I hear Central Park houses a lot of birds.”

Richie laughed loudly, clapping Stan over the shoulder, “Yowza! Thanks, Stan the Man.”

Stan chuckled lightly, nodding towards the others, “Whatever, you big sap. Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title - Best Friend by Rex Orange County
> 
> Ah yes, platonic Stozier for the soul. I think I've set myself up a nice new posting schedule, rotating between my three current works. As usual, please let me know what you think and what you want to see next!


	9. Like A Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie go for a drive.

Eddie sighed, staring up at his ceiling as he laid splayed out on his bed. Though things at the diner hadn’t gone perfectly at first, he felt as though today had ultimately been a success. Stan and Richie had made up, and Richie had thoroughly (well as thoroughly as Richie Tozier could be; Eddie knew his story definitely had a couple a couple holes in it) explained himself to the Losers and things felt good.

And Richie and Beverly had asked the others to come  _ live _ with them. In  _ New York CIty. _ Eddie had gotten into NYU, of course, but only after getting help from Stan and Bill to send in his application behind his mother’s back. He’d checked the mail every day as soon as he saw the truck stop and leave. He’d carefully descend out his bedroom window, check for a response, and then be back in his room before his mother had even begun to stir from her bed. Around four months after the Losers (excluding Mike) had sent in their applications, they started to get their acceptance letters. Ben had been first, excitedly calling a Losers Club meeting to make the announcement, which was met with congratulations and excited praise. Stan had been next, getting a partial scholarship for his involvement with the synagogue and his freakishly outstanding good grades. Bill hadn't received much attention from his parents, so the Losers made sure to throw him a small, Losers only surprise party in the clubhouse. Eddie’s letter had come last. It had arrived slightly squashed and almost a week after Bill’s letter,, by which point Eddie was almost certain he hadn’t made the cut. He’d clambered up into his window and ripped it open, then almost hurling right onto his bedroom floor when he realized that he had not only been accepted to NYU, but he’d been accepted with a full athletic scholarship for track and field. He’d been absolutely thrilled, and biked as quickly as possible to show Mike before calling the other and meeting down at the Aladdin for a celebratory movie screening.

With Richie and Bev’s offer, he could actually go to NYU. He could see his and his friend’s lives all carefully entwined in New York… going to broadway shows, eating dinner, watching movies. Everything he’d ever wanted as an explosive and excitable thirteen year old living in Derry. He could get away from his mother and actually live how he wanted. He could-

_ Thunk! _

Eddie groaned, sitting up at the familiar sound of someone throwing pebbles at his bedroom window. It was past ten pm and Stan would be going birdwatching with Ben tomorrow, which eliminated them from the pool of possible night time visitors. 

_ Thunk! _

Mike had to milk the cows- Bessie and Molly, they were affectionately named- at the crack of dawn, so it was most certainly not him.

_ CLONK! _

Full sized rock, not a pebble, which meant that-

“Richie!” Eddie hissed as his friend’s face suddenly pressed gently against the glass.

Only Richie ever threw rocks bigger than an inch, despite the multiple warnings Eddie had given him over the years.

“Hiya, S’ghetti.” Richie whispered happily as Eddie carefully lifted the window open, “Come on out. You and I are going on an adventure.”

“It's Sunday night, Richie. I have school tomorrow.”, Eddie deadpanned, arms crossed.

Richie scoffed, “You’ll be back before midnight, Eds. Don’t you trust me?”

Eddie grimaced before reluctantly shooing Richie back so he himself could climb out of the window and onto the roof, “You better not make me regret this, Rich.”

Richie’ eyes brightened, pumping a fist in the air, “Perfect! My car’s parked down the street.”

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked hesitantly as they began to lower themselves onto the tree adjacent to Eddie’s window.

“That’s a surprise, Edmund.” Richie chirped, landing on the ground with a soft thud, “You’ll see when we get there.”

“That’s not my name, dick.” Eddie grumbled as he too jumped down to the grass.

Richie sighed dramatically, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Just come, you little baby.”

“I’m not a fucking baby.” Eddie replied with a huff, but continued to follow him.

Coming up to Richie’s car, Eddie took the time to appreciate it. It really was nice, and obviously way more expensive than he’d ever seen anyone in Derry drive. The hot red paint seemed to glow warm and inviting under the yellowing street lamp that stood solemnly above it. 

Richie, dramatic as ever, gingerly opened the passenger side door and threw his head down in an over-the-top bow, “ _ My liege _ .”

“Grow up, Richard.” Eddie scowled. Sliding into the black fabric seat of the car, Eddie smiled slightly at how well cared for the car was. Everything was obviously fairly clean and a miniature pair of hot red fuzzy dice were thrown over the rear view mirror. 

Richie grinned, hoping carelessly into the driver’s seat and turning to Eddie, “You mind if I turn on the radio, Eds?”

“Sure.” Eddie shrugged, “But that’s not my name.”

Richie laughed, shifting the car into drive and turning on the radio.

_ I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things _

Eddie nearly,  _ nearly _ groaned as the cabin of Richie’s car began to fill with the sound of piano and Freddie Mercury’s voice. This was just patronizing, he thought grimly.

_ We can do the tango just for two _

_ I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings _

_ Be your Valentino just for you _

_ Ooh love ooh loverboy _

_ What're you doin' tonight, hey boy _

As Eddie had come to realize, soon after his friends’ departure from their hometown, he was so definitely in love with Richie Tozier. He liked his big coke bottle glasses and stupid adorable grin. He’d been so hurt after Richie’s leaving that he completely shut down for about a week. Until, of course, Bill had pointed out that he couldn’t be sad forever, and Richie and Bev had promised to come back. Eddie had begrudgingly agreed and met with the others in the Barrens.

_ Set my alarm, turn on my charm _

_ That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy _

_ Ooh let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster) _

_ Ooh ooh can you feel my love heat, ooh _

_ Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love _

_ And tell me how do you feel right after-all _

_ I'd like for you and I to go romancing _

Eddie’s face flushed as he stared out of the window and tried his best to ignore the increasingly annoying lyrics. 

_ Say the word, your wish is my command _

_ Ooh love ooh loverboy _

_ What're you doin' tonight, hey boy _

_ Write my letter _

This could not get any more condescending, could it?

_ Feel much better _

_ And use my fancy patter on the telephone _

_ When I'm not with you _

_ I think of you always _

_ (I miss those long hot summer nights) I miss you _

Eddie was slowly beginning to wonder how mad Richie would be if he threw a fist out and broke his radio. What if he just reached over and turned the volume all the way down or something? How obvious would that be?

_ When I'm not with you _

_ Think of me always _

_ Love you, love you _

_ Hey boy where do you get it from _

_ Hey boy where did you go? _

_ I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of loverboys _

_ Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely _

_ (One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock) _

_ I will pay the bill, you taste the wine _

_ Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely _

_ Just take me back to yours that will be fine (come on and get it) _

This was absolutely unbearable. Of course the universe thought that now of all times was the perfect opportunity to throw his crush on “Heterosexual Frat-Boy” Richie Tozier right in his face.

_ Ooh love, (there he goes again just like a good old-fashioned lover boy) _

_ Ooh loverboy _

_ What're you doin' tonight, hey boy _

_ Everything's all right _

_ Just hold on tight _

_ That's because I'm a good old-fashioned fashioned lover boy _

Hysterical.

Eddie cleared his throat slightly, reaching forward to turn the volume down as the next song (which happened to be Thunderstruck by AC/DC) began to play, “Tell me about your tattoos.”

Richie’s eyes widened, turning to look at Eddie curiously before turning back to look at the road, “Oh. Yeah… Sure. Which one do you wanna hear about first?”

“The snake.” Eddie replied as though it was obvious. It was the biggest, and the only one that had caught Eddie’s immediate attention when he’d seen it.

Richie nodded, smiling, “Yeah. Yeah, the snake. My mentor, the old guy, he got me some boxing classes when I first started working for him. The first time I won a match against my instructor, he’d called me a slippery snake and it kinda became like an inside joke. The day before he left he booked me an appointment at a tattoo parlor and we talked while I had it done. That was when he told me he was giving everything to me. I guess it just has a lot of sentimental value.”

Eddie smiled, “That’s sweet, Rich.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Richie replied sheepishly, “Now which one?”

Eddie shrugged, “I couldn’t really make the others out, they were too small.”

Richie laughed loudly, “Bevvy did those. She had a whole faze and insisted she use me as her canvas. Not that I regret though, I love the small ones. I think I’ve got… a little sheet ghost, a lollipop, a hazard symbol. A smiley face too, I think. I can’t really remember.”

“And the word?”

“Word?”

“On the inside of your left arm? Surrounded by all of Bev’s artistic endeavors?”

“Oh!” Richie exclaimed, eyes shining, “It, uh, well it's just something I got to remember you all by. Here, let me just….” Reaching a hand up, Richie turned on the overhead light and moved his left arm around his body so Eddie could read it. In bold, black letters, the word “LOSER” sat on the inside of Richie’s left arm. Crossed carefully and precisely over the “S” sat a bright red “V”. God, he’d forgotten how sentimental Richie could be.

Eddie chuckled quietly, turning the light off, “I like it, Rich.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, moving his arm back to grip the steering wheel.

“Yeah.” Eddie affirmed, “It’s thoughtful.”

“Hard to believe Trashmouth Tozier could put thought into anything, huh?” He asked as he pulled them off of the asphalt and onto a dark dirt road.

Eddie frowned, glancing out and into the surrounding woods, “Is this some kind of ploy to murder me in the woods?”

Richie sighed, dramatically, “Now you’ve done it, Eds. You ruined my surprise.”

Eddie only rolled his eyes and shot back a quick, “You’re so dumb.” before the trees thinned into a wide, open clearing. The grass was tall, reaching up to touch the wheels of Richie's car, moonlight washing over every blade.

“Out we go, Spaghetti.” Richie chimed, parking the car and climbing out of his door.

“Rich?”

“Sit with me, Eds.” Richie said quietly, climbing on to the car roof and staring up at the sky.

“We’re going stargazing?” Eddie asked as he made his way next to Richie.

“You bet.” Richie grinned.

Eddie hummed, readjusting and gazing up at the sky. He could see what he thought was Ursa Major. Below it, Leo Minor and something else he couldn’t remember the name of.

“You used to love astronomy.” Eddie said, realization washing over him. Richie had gone through an absolutely impossible faze in the third grade after his dad had let him watch some silly movie about martians and space travel. He’d babbled on and on to Bill, Stan and Eddie about space facts he’d learned and had proudly shown them a brand new shirt that boasted a rocket right on the front. He’d talk for hours on end about space and aliens, and when it was his turn to pick which game they played down in the Barrens after school, he’d immediately chosen to play astronauts.

“Still do.” Richie mumbled and slowly raised a hand to point out a constellation, “That one is Draco. ‘S one of the biggest constellations in the sky.”

Eddie smiled, turning his head to watch Richie talk. Richie hardly ever talked about his interests after his ventriloquist faze in the sixth grade, in which Henry Bowers had pushed him over and told him that ventriloquism was a stupid hobby and didn’t even require any talent. Richie had stopped sharing his interests and relied solely on his jokes after that, unless it was very late or he was very tired, of course.

“It’s a Greek constellation. It has nine stars and one Messier object.” he continued on, apparently unaware that Eddie was watching. Eddie carefully observed his face. The way the moon lit up every sharp angle enhanced every part of Richie’s face. The way his lips twitched upward as he spoke in detail about the constellation and the way his hands gently fiddled with his many silver rings.

“The story goes that the constellation represents the dragon that guarded the golden apples in the gardens of Hesperides, Ladon. When Hercules was given his twelve labors, he was tasked with stealing some apples from the tree. To do so, he slew the dragon. Saddened by the dragon’s death, the goddess Hera placed its image in the sky as a constellation. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Pretty cool.” Eddie nodded, turning back to look at the collection of stars. He took a deep breath, “Richi-”

“I’m in love with you.” Richie blurted out, interrupting him.

Eddie froze, eyes wide.

A look of horror crossed Richie’s face as he noticed Eddie’s prolonged silence. He sat up, running a ringed hand through his hair, “S-Shit, I’m sorry. That was totally out of nowhere. God, fuck. I’m really sorry-”

“Richie.”

“Geez, I’m an idiot. Do you want me to drive you home? I can if you want me to and-”

“ _ Richie. _ ” 

“We can just forget this ever happened, if you want. I’ll-”

“RICHIE.” Eddie repeated, causing Richie to stop his rambling.

“I love you too.” Eddie said softly.

“You’re- Huh?” Richie frowned, “Say that one more time?”

“I love you too.” Eddie repeated, more confidently now.

_ Richie Tozier _ was in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen
> 
> Today's chapter was posted a bit later than I'd hoped, but its pretty long compared to my other chapters so I hope that's ok <3 Feel free to leave a comment and have a good day! :)


	10. It's Signed With Love, Just Like It Used To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie makes a pick up.

Eddie had smiled the entire drive home, especially when Richie had timidly asked whether he could take him out to dinner some time and Eddie had facepalmed and replied, “Of course you can, you fucking idiot.”

Afterwards, Eddie had climbed carefully back into his bedroom, waved to Richie from his window, and tried to sleep. “Tried” being the most important word. He’d laid under his sheets for nearly an hour, mind racing back to his outing with Richie. Richie _loved_ him. Really, absolutely, truly loved him and had asked him out to _dinner_ . _And_ he’d managed not to panic and said yes! Things were really, _really_ looking up.

He’d spent all day at school distracted and thankful that none of his teachers had called on him to answer any questions about something-or-other or define words he really didn’t care about. He’d excitedly told Ben, Stan, and Bill all about his nighttime excursion through a mouthful of carrot sticks and peanut butter at lunch. While Bill and Ben had pushed for details and congratulated him, Stan simply groaned, shook his head and mumbled a quick, “Fucking finally.” before shooting Eddie a small smile when no one else was watching.

Eddie walked in time with his friends as they came to the faded red doors of Derry High’s main entrance, engaged in an interesting conversation on whether or not Kurt Cobain would enjoy milk chocolate or dark chocolate. He was just starting to get into why milk chocolate trumped dark chocolate when he almost tumbled down the stairs.

Leaning against his hot red Pontiac Firebird, cigarette in hand, was Richie Tozier. He was wearing pressed and ironed dress pants that were a reasonable charcoal gray and a plain white dress shirt on top. His jewelry was brighter, shinier, and Eddie assumed that Bev had taken all of Richie’s things and cleaned and polished them. He was wearing a belt too, he noticed, and a nice one at that. Simple, but very nice. His shoes were nice too, and if Eddie didn’t know better he’d guess that Richie dressed professionally all the time. He certainly held himself like he did, at least. He was confident but also incredibly comfortable, obviously, and he stood like he was familiar with wearing formal clothes. Completing his look was a simplistic pair of black sunglasses, which were almost certain to be as expensive as everything else Richie seemed to have acquired in the past two and a half years. What shocked Eddie the most, however, was that Richie was engaged in a casual conversation with a group of girls. A group of girls that contained Lisa Albrecht, Nancy Dumont, and Greta Keene: Derry’s resident super-bitches. Jealousy twinged in Eddie’s stomach, even though he knew he had no reason to be. Richie didn’t like girls, much less girls like those three. Even worse for Eddie’s ever growing irritation and jealousy, was the fact that as he and the Losers (excluding Mike and Bev, of course) began to walk towards him, he could hear people talking about Richie.

“-Tozier got hot-”

“-Killer car, huh-”

“-Trashmouth Tozier.”

“I heard he-”

“Eds!” Richie cried loudly, putting a quick stop to whatever words were coming out of Greta’s mouth.

“That’s not my fucking name, Dick.” Eddie replied sourly, watching the girls go with giggles and soft goodbyes, “What’re you doing here, Rich?”

Richie shrugged, dropping his cigarette onto the sidewalk and twisting it under the ball of his foot, “Came to pick you up and drop you off at home, since I won’t be in town tonight or tomorrow. I’ve got a meeting in Portland.”

“What about the rest of us?” Stan asked dryly from behind Eddie.

Richie frowned, glancing back at his car and then towards his friends, “I’ve only got four seats, kids. Two of you better double up.”

Bill and Ben both groaned, Richie snickering as he made his way around the front of the car and to the driver’s seat, “Eddie’s got shotgun!” he yelled as he flung the door open theatrically and shut it behind him.

“Oh, Eddie’s got shotgun.” Stan mocked good naturedly before climbing into the backseat, “I’m not doubling with either of you. So figure it out.”

Bill and Ben just glared at each other and sighed, Ben climbing in first and Bill after him to sit on his lap.

Eddie just laughed, hopping into the passenger side and fastening his seatbelt.

They’d dropped Bill and Stan off at Bill’s house first. The two of them had an art project to finish, and seeing as how Bill was the Losers Club’s designated artist, it made sense for the two of them to pair up for the class. They’d decided on Bill’s house rather than Stan’s due to the fact that Bill had argued against lugging all of his pencils and paints all the way to the Uris’ house, which Stan begrudgingly agreed upon. Ben was dropped off next, giving Richie a polite thank you and asking when he and Bev would be back, as he had promised her lunch. Richie had simply laughed, told him that they’d be back in three days at the very latest, and wished him good luck on his romantic venture before speeding off.

“We’re going to get that dinner as soon as I get back.” Richie chided as they drove, “You can pick where, you know I don’t mind.”

Eddie shrugged, fiddling with the side of his seat, “I don’t know. I’ll think it over while you’re in Portland. What’s your meeting about?”

“Expansion.” Richie responded, “We’ve got centers in Los Angeles, Vegas, Chicago, Miami and New York but are looking at moving into Seattle, Atlanta, and Dallas.”

“That’s exciting.” Eddie smiled. It was pretty interesting, though. Centers in over five major cities and looking to add three more to the collection must be a huge deal, and a heavy weight on Richie’s shoulders, “You must be nervous.”

“Definitely.” RIchie chuckled, “It’s pretty cool, though… You want me to drop you off a block away?”

Eddie groaned, rubbing his temple, “Yeah, thanks. If Mrs. Van Prett next door sees me get out of your car, she’ll have kittens. She’d definitely snitch to my mom.”

Richie pulled the car to a stop next to the sidewalk and unlocked the door, “So… I’ll see you in a few days.”

Eddie nodded, opening the door, grabbing his backpack and giving Richie a small peck on the cheek, “Yep. See you in a few days, Rich!”

Richie’s face turned bright red as Eddie stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him, “Y-Yeah. Yup. See ya, Spaghetti.”

Eddie laughed the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Title: She's Got You by Patsy Kline
> 
> i missed my update for He's Not Him, so I'm gonna double up the chapters on that tomorrow (If you're into ST/It crossovers check it out!). On that note, I'm gonna do some shameless promo for my SPN/deancas fic, Back to the Past (And Then Some) :) check it out! Thank you all for your comments, they really encourage me to keep writing AND remind me not to miss my update days (oops,,,) Have a good day! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, critique, or just general guesses as to where you think the story is going to go are all appreciated!


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